Blue Water
by tanya-arianneNL
Summary: What if just before Major Crimes acquires a potentially deadly case, someone else ends up in a deep coma? what if said person is a formerly hated FID captain? Will the department of Major Crimes and one member in particular finally realize how much they've become to rely on Sharon Raydor? And will she wake up in time to tell them what she has witnessed?
1. Chapter 1

**Blue Water**

**Author's note: It's been a while since I've written anything, but I've had this idea in my head for quite some time, so here's my very first fic of "the Closer'. I do not own "the Closer" nor do I own the book "Blue Water", which was the inspiration for this story. I apologize if there are any mistakes in my work. I am not a native speaker and therefore there might be some grammar and spelling errors present in this story, since I do not have a beta. Feel free to comment, reviews will be greatly appreciated. Please let me know whether I should continue or not.**

Chapter 1

A sharp ringing interrupted Flynn's sleepy state. He had been lying on the comfortable leather couch, that was situated tactically in his living area. Normally, after a particularly gruesome or tiring day, he would spend an hour or so simply unwinding on this sofa, sometimes taking a nap before moving on to his equally comfortable bed, however today he had been excruciatingly close to falling asleep when he was shaken up by the bell. Taking more time than was strictly necessary, he raised his hands above his head, stretching lazily. The ringing returned, causing him to curse under his breath. Whomever was standing at the other side of the door better have a damn good reason for depriving him of his much needed sleep. He checked his watch, half past twelve. Half past twelve? Damn he had been on the couch quite longer than he'd originally thought. Grunting he cursed again louder this time while making his way to the front door. It was all because of that stupid lawsuit going on at major crimes, that was what had kept him awake and pondering. He sighed as he unlocked the door, swinging it open, ready to tell the person on the other side off. However, the sight meeting his eyes had him going from annoyance to confusion to concern. On his doorstep stood the normally stoic Captain Raydor, only there was nothing left of her otherwise impeccable exterior. There was a large bruise marring the usually flawless skin on the left side of her face, her lip was severely split and her chest was heaving in short, shallow breaths, almost as if it was too painful to inhale any deeper. Andy noticed she was clutching her left side with her right hand, her arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Though these were all serious injuries, the thing that worried him the most was the unfocused look behind a sheen of unshed tears in the familiar pale green eyes. It seemed like it cost her great effort to keep looking at him, though every time her eyes started to wonder off ever so slightly, she forced them back. She opened her mouth a little, wincing when the gash on her bottom lip stretches painfully, causing fresh blood to appear.

_"Lieutenant Flynn…"_

The usual decisiveness and force with which she always pronounces her words is completely absent. The words are spoken slowly, not out of the need to choose them carefully or to make herself completely clear, but out of necessity, for she forms them with obvious difficulty. At that moment, he wants to reach out to her, to ask her what happened and which bastard he should shoot in the head, but he senses that she has more to say. Black spots begin to form in front of her eyes and, even though she tries to blink them away, they start to take over her senses. She takes a breath as deep as she dares to, ignoring the sharp sting coming from her ribcage. She needs to stay calm, she needs to stay conscious, she repeats the words in her head; Calm, Conscious, Calm, Conscious. Again she tries to speak, for all the effort it takes, she knows she must.

_"There is something I need to tell y…"_

She doesn't have time to finish her sentence before the darkness almost completely blocks her sight. She shakes her head lightly, blinks, tries to focus on the face of the man in standing in front, on the feeling of her blazer beneath her fingers, on the smell of grass after rain, coming from the lieutenant's lawn, everything to stay awake. It doesn't matter, her eyelids feel heavy, her body is protesting, sensing the need for her to rest, forcing it upon her. Before Flynn has time to say anything or do anything other than catching her, she collapses into his arms.

_"Chief, I still can't get hold of lieutenant Flynn."_

Buzz' voice was almost inaudible as it mixed in with the sound of sirens and the heart wrenching sobs of the newly widowed woman, standing in the middle of the crime scene. She was being held close by a female officer, who was patting her awkwardly on the back and seemed to be softly whispering words of comfort. Brenda Leigh Johnson supposed that was one part of the job no one would ever get used to. Thank God the officers that had arrived at the crime scene first, had thoughtfully covered up the heavily mutilated body of the victim before his wife had reached the place.

_"Keep trying Buzz and, if you do reach him, tell him to come down here immediately. I'll have a word with him later."_

Harry Wright, 49, technical advisor, had been found by a neighbour, an elderly lady living at the other side of the road. Apparently the woman had gone over to the victim's house to ask for some sugar to finish the cake she had been in the middle of making. It was a cliché, chief Johnson had to admit that, and she certainly didn't plan on letting the neighbour off the hook without further questioning her, but to her credit the old lady did look more than a little shaken and genuinely devastated. She kept repeating over and over again that he'd been such a lovely man and that he and his wife were such a lovely couple, as if that would somehow lessen the pain of losing someone. Brenda found she sympathised with Mary Alvarez, being alone she might not have anyone to share her grief with. Of course nothing could compare to the grief of the wife, Laura Wright, now silently crying onto the shoulder of the same officer that had been holding her before. The deputy chief could not even start to imagine what it must feel like to lose your husband. She wasn't sure how she would make it through that kind of loss, if she would make it. Life without Fritz would be empty, meaningless, which was the closest Brenda could come to identifying with the woman. She didn't want to give the subject any more thought, she didn't dare to, but for once she wasn't embarrassed to admit her fear. She decided nobody should ever have to live through an experience like that .

_"Chief, he's still not picking up._"

Buzz voice pulled her out of her train of thoughts. Damn, This was getting ridiculous, Flynn had been a lieutenant, and before that a detective, long enough to know the importance of being stand- by at all times. Answering the bloody phone was one of the first things they learned when they joined the force. It wasn't as if killers took of office-hours in account and neither did witnesses. Was it really that much to ask for to have her whole team present at this case? A case that was rapidly getting out of hand. When they got the call they assumed it had been just a homicide, not that that wasn't terrible enough, but a homicide was something the major crimes division dealt with on a daily basis. This time, however, it was more complex and possibly dangerous than simply catching a killer, this time she had a full blown crisis at hand. It was an understatement to say Brenda had felt her blood chill in her veins when she'd learned that the daughter of the Wright's was missing. These were the cases that weighed down upon her the most, missing children. And if her father's killer had anything to do with her disappearance, which the chief thoroughly believed, it was even more crucial than usual to find Marilyn Wright as soon as possible.

_She was floating, weightlessly in the dark. Where? In space? No not in space, there weren't any stars. Think, just think, she ordered herself. How did she get here? What happened? Where? The first question returned, maybe that was a good way to start, figuring out where she was. Maybe under water? It certainly felt a bit like she was swimming, or, more accurately, sinking. Come to think about it, it felt as if the open air was right above her, but she wasn't able to reach it. She was aware of her body: toes, feet, legs, stomach, back, chest, arms, hands, fingers, head, but she couldn't move. Desperately she tried again, twitching her hand, wriggling a toe, that would've been enough, yet she couldn't. Something else struck her as odd, as if something was missing, something that had been there before, but not now. She couldn't put her finger on it. Where was she? Why was she so tired? Maybe she should open her eyes? Yes, that was an idea, however, like the rest of her body, her eyelids wouldn't move. Not yet._


	2. Chapter 2

**thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/started to follow this story. It's really appreciated. I hope this chapter will live up to your expectations. And again, if you have any comments, tips or even constructive criticism, please let me know. **

Chapter 2

Andy Flynn was standing in the hallway of Cedars hospital, his eyes on focused on the doors ahead of him, the ones they had taken Sharon Raydor through in a hurry. He had acted quickly, calling the ambulance as soon as he had carefully placed the Captain's light frame on the ground, wary as to not make any injuries worse. When help arrived he had watched helplessly as they positioned her on the stretcher, riding her to the ambulance. He had sat next to her during the short trip to the hospital, suppressing the sudden urge to take her small, immovable hand in his, cause that would be weird wouldn't it? Now, standing in clinical hall of Cedars, doctors, nurses and worried family members passing by, he wished he'd done it. The whirlwind of emotions running through his veins like high blood pressure confused him. He didn't like her, heck, he had even hated her only seconds before she'd turned up on his doorstep. But, how could he hate her when she had looked at him in such a distress? He had seen emotions in her eyes that had never been there before, or at least he had never been able to witness them. Worry, fear and, inexplicably, sadness. The woman who was usually so well put together, the one that was always composed and in a clear state of mind. It just felt wrong to have seen her like this, vulnerable. Andy thought it would be fun, a good laugh to see Sharon Raydor out of control, instead it gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

It was this very moment that he realised that maybe he didn't only stopped hating the captain right now, maybe he didn't hate her at all. No, he concluded, he didn't hate her, not now, not even before. Sure, he hated the way she was always right, especially the smug look on her face when they were once again reminded of that particular fact. He hated her rule following till the point he wanted to start throwing things or better even, punching some uncooperative bastard in the face. He wholeheartedly hated how she monitored their division, questioning their integrity. And, most of all, he hated how he hated the moments were she could make him forget all the things he'd hated about her before. Not that there had been many occasions, but still. He fondly remembered her saying: "He'd better wake up!", when the ambulance personnel had took him to the hospital. She'd been the first one he called that night, he wondered if she had similar reasons for coming to him tonight. He also remembered that time she had fired that beanbag, hitting the criminal right between the eyes. How impressed they'd all been, even his grumpy old partner had to admit that her aim was exceptionally good. Andy shook his head when he realized where his thoughts had wandered off to, he would never live it down if the chief, or anyone else at major crimes would find out he secretly thought Darth Raydor wasn't so bad. The looks on their faces would be priceless, though. Andy imagined Provenza's reaction, which probably consisted of staring at him in disbelieve, mouth wide open, followed by a whole lecture on why the wicked witch was, well, wicked. His partner, and the rest of the team for that matter, did not seem to have reached the same conclusion as he had; that it could've been worse. Working with Raydor wasn't that pleasant, but she kept them on their toes. She might be a little too keen on playing by the rules, but more than once she had pointed out a loophole for them in her precious regulations. Guess it had some benefits to be a walking rulebook. Andy knew she never got the appreciation she deserved, but , if he was completely honest with himself, where would they be without FID and its head? They would be free to do as they pleased, break any rule they wanted and get away with it. Even though sometimes this idea seemed like a great one, deep down Andy realised the rules were there for a reason. He himself had broken quite a few of them, but he did understand the need for those rules and the need for them to be followed, for they made the difference between the police and the criminals. Most cops just viewed FID as an annoyance, some would even go as far as to say they're a disgrace to the police, but Andy knew better, even though he didn't always act in accordance with that knowledge. Right now, however, he decided it didn't really matter what people would think, as long as Captain Raydor came out of that room okay, he couldn't care less.

During the elevator ride up to the ninth floor, where Major Crimes was situated, chief Johnson's brain was working over hours, even more so than usual. The murder had definitely been personal, the multiple stabbing in the victims stomach belly and face were proof for that. She knew there needed to be a lot of anger and loss of control behind all of those stabs, for each had been vicious, as far as she could tell. Also, there was no pattern in the stabbing, it was as if someone had just randomly put the knife in at every spot they could reach, not the work of a professional. Brenda started to build a picture in her mind, an ordinary person, with a personal vendetta against Harry Wright. Probably a man, even without medical training she could see Harry Wrights body showed defensive wounds and, unless his killer had been an exceptionally strong woman, only a man of considering height and strength could've been able to overpower the victim. These were just basic assumptions, things she would start to overthink at the beginning of every homicide. However, this time the real question was: why did they took the girl? Had she been the target all along? Had she been a witness to her father's death? Or maybe, Mrs Wright was the intended victim, maybe death wasn't punishment enough according to the perpetrator.

She was still thinking along these lines when she stepped out of the elevator and started to make her way to her office. Why had Marilyn been kidnapped? By now they were sure they were dealing with an abduction, not just the umpteenth teenager that had ran away. It had been Lieutenant Toa, who'd found the little note lying on the table in the Wright's house.

"You'll never see her again."

That's what it said in a neat, small handwriting. If the text was anything to go by, the kidnapper didn't want any money and that he wasn't planning on returning the girl, something that really concerned Brenda. What was really frustrating, though, was that she wasn't able come up with a reason for the kidnapping. What reason could someone have for stealing someone else's kid? Usually these cases were about money or blackmailing, but the note indicated the kidnapper either to keep the girl or finish her off. New questions kept popping up and she was almost glad when detective Gabriel entered her office to inform her Laura Wright had arrived and was in interview room one. She really wasn't looking forward to this interview, actually she contemplated ordering one of her guys to take this one, but at the same time she wanted, no, she need to do this herself. Upset family members were one of the things she wasn't very good at handling. Oh, she could be empathetic, she could comfort them as well as any other member of her team, but she always felt a little guilty for dragging them to the police station so soon after their loss. Not that she would let anyone notice her She knew she had to though, if they wanted to find Marilyn alive. The girl was only fourteen years old and, based on the photographs Brenda had seen at the crime scene, the spitting image of her mother. Chestnut brown hair, a pale complexion, same figure, almost the same height, in fact the only real difference was that Marilyn had blue eyes, while Laura's were a deep brown. Having conjured the photograph in her mind Brenda was sure she would never forgive herself if she didn't find the girl in time, which was exactly why she had asked Laura Wright to come downtown for an interview, merely two hours after the murder was reported. She looked at her watch, 2:30, this was going to be a long night.

_She had still no idea where she was, she couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything, basically the only thing she knew was that she must be alive, though she wasn't so sure about that anymore. Underwater, blue water, seemed to be her best guess yet. She struggled not to sink any further, instinctively she realized she needed to go up or at least not down. It cost her great difficulty not to let herself just slip away into the calming deepness of the blue water. Part of her wanted to let go, stop fighting. She was just so tired. Another, slightly stronger part of her, wanted to hold on and remember what had happened. It seemed so important to remember. It had been a rough day, she knew that, but her mind was foggy and it was hard to concentrate on the memories that seemed to be just out of reach. One thing triggers the other, she recalled. _

_"This is the voicemail of Daniel Raydor, I either don't have my phone with me at the moment or, if your my mom, I don't want to talk to you right now."_

_She'd had a row with her son, that was it. She'd gotten angry at him for not putting enough time in his studies, after which he had hung up on her. His studies had always been a sensitive subject. It had been a last minute decision to become a lawyer like his dad, which was why she'd been a bit wary at first. Not because he wanted to study law, that was his decision to make, but because she was afraid he hadn't thought it through properly. After her initial reaction she'd made it clear she supported him, but he still sometimes felt like she disapproved. She tried to call him back a few times, only to find out he'd changed his the message of his voicemail. It stung to hear her son say he didn't want to talk to her, but she figured it would be best to give him some time. It wasn't exactly the best morning she'd had recently and her day had gotten even worse when Pope announced that he wanted her to interview the entire major crimes team. As if they didn't dislike her enough already. _

_"My relationship with chief Johnson is already complicated."_

_"Yeah, well you're the one who decided on a career in internal affairs."_

_So, she should put up with this crap, because she what? signed up for it? because she felt it was important that not even police officers considered themselves to be above the law? She'd been confused, surprised and maybe just a tad annoyed when Pope had called her report incredibly superficial, when he told her he didn't want any outsiders poking around in their files. However, after hearing him say that, basically, it was her own choice to be hated by the entire LAPD, her irritation had turned into anger, something she hadn't even bothered to hide from him. She'd lashed back by criticizing his actions in the shoot'n newt'n case, but it was no use. The way he'd put emphasis on her rank when telling her to go down to Major Crimes to finish her audit, left her in no doubt that this was an order. Resignation had already begun to wash over her when she made to turn away, still she'd spun back to face Pope once more._

_"Seeing that I'm legally prohibited from discussing with chief Johnson why I am haunting her murder room, would you perhaps consider telling her that I'm there under direct orders from you?"_

_"What do you think?"_

_Of course he'd declined when she'd asked him to explain this investigation to chief Johnson himself. Why should he tell her? Why should he try to preserve the near civil working relationship she had established with chief Johnson? She was used to the attitude most cops had towards her and her department, she was used to the name calling, the glancing and the suspicion, they didn't hurt her anymore. But this, this felt like a knife not only being put in her back, but twisted and pushed deeper. She'd assumed that chief Pope, whom had always sided with Brenda Leigh, was going to accept her final report and ask her to step back. Something she would've done gladly, for once she was more than happy to put a case behind her, but instead, he'd demanded her to go take it a step further, thereby poking the bear that was chief Johnson. She respected the woman, fully understood her reaction upon learning that her team going to be interviewed, but it did nothing to improve her day even the slightest bit. Whenever she looked around she saw the members of Major Crimes stare at her in the most unpleasant way they could muster, something especially lieutenants Provenza and Flynn had gotten good at over the years. What had surprised her was that even Sergeant Gabriel and lieutenant Toa, who had thus far been relatively polite to her, joined their colleagues in their quest to make her day miserable. _

_So, at the end she found herself sitting at a bar. An impulsive decision, one she regretted after just one drink. How they would laugh at major crimes, if they heard she'd let them get to her enough to end up drinking alone in some smoky café. What had she been thinking? That sitting amongst the other miserable, lonely men and women would somehow make it better? She'd never been the one to drink away her problems, she wasn't about to start now. She picked up her bag from the floor, one hand searching for her wallet, when another drink appeared in front of her. Seeking the bartenders eyes, she politely said,_

_"Excuse me, I didn't order anything, actually I was just about to…"_

_The bartender smiled at her, then looked pointedly at a spot behind her before she was interrupted by a deep, male voice interrupted her_

_"I ordered it. Or would you rather have something else?"_


	3. Chapter 3

**I wasn't planning on writing another chapter this week, since I have an exam coming up tomorrow... But my brain decided I'd studied enough. I really hope you all like it. Reviews will make me very happy.**

"Laura wright? May I call you Laura?"

Deputy chief Johnson entered the interview room, quickly followed by detective Gabriel. The woman sitting in the chair behind the white table looked small, her shoulders hunched forward, her head hung low. It seemed like she what she wanted most was to curl up in a little ball, disappear from the world. The words startled her, as if she'd been lost in her own little world. Come to think about it, Brenda was almost sure that she had been desperately trying to get away from reality. Over the years she'd learned that different people dealt with loss in different ways. There were the ones who blocked the pain, the sorrow that came with the death of a loved one. Those people insisted they were okay, even though it was painfully obvious that they weren't. There were the ones who got angry, at themselves, at the world, at everything. They screamed and kicked, started throwing things, everything to turn grief into an emotion they were able to handle: rage. And then there were the ones who crawled away into a corner, shutting out the rest of the world to be silently consumed by the overwhelming pain growing inside them. Laura wright seemed to fit into the last category. She'd displayed raw emotions upon learning of her husband's death and her daughter's disappearance, but when she finally raised her head to look at chief Johnson, the only visible remnants of that outburst were her still red-rimmed eyes, but even when she finally nodded at Brenda's question she seemed to be somewhere else.

"I am so sorry for your loss. Can you tell me what happened today?" It doesn't need to have anything to do with the murder, just walk me through your day. Maybe there's something that could help us find your daughter. Take your time."

Not that they had any time, but what they needed right now was a clear, precise recount of Harry Wright's last day and the closest she could come to that was listening to his wife's day. What chief Johnson absolutely didn't want to happen was for Laura to have a hysterical breakdown, which was why she needed to tread lightly. She needed every detail she could get, however small, to ,make sure she wasn't overlooking anything. She took Laura's hands in her own, only now noticing that the woman was shaking a little. Maybe she hadn't pulled herself together as well as she seemed, not that it surprised Brenda. In fact it didn't surprise her at all.

"I had to work an afternoon shift, my husband had a day off and Marilyn had a holiday, so we spent the morning together at home. Nothing unusual, we had breakfast, Marilyn and I went to the supermarket, we had lunch. After that I went to my work, I work at a nursing home. Harry wanted to take Marilyn for a swim, it was such a lovely day. I remember thinking it was a pity I couldn't join them. Work was the same as always, my shift ended at 11 pm. And then, when I came home, I saw the police cars standing in front of my house. On the lawn that busybody Mary was talking to an officer. I ran inside, but they wouldn't let me anywhere near my husband. I asked for my daughter, but she wasn't there."

The way Laura spoke was completely deprived of any emotion, she just summed up the happenings of the day without even as much as a weaver in her voice. Brenda had seen it before and she didn't object to it. For some that was the only way to recall things as horrifying as a spouse's death. She wanted her witnesses to be as objective as they could, not led by grief or any other emotion. She needed the entire picture in order to decide what was important and what wasn't. Now that she was sure Laura was able to talk without any interferences from grief, she knew it was time to speed the interview up.

"When you left home, was your husband's behaviour any different than usual? Was there anything you found strange or out of character?"

"No, not really. We kissed goodbye as always. I told him to hang up the laundry and asked whether he could take a look at the lamp in the cellar. You see it was broken and I hoped he could fix it. I didn't really want to call an electrician for something so trivial. Harry wasn't exactly technical, but he said he would take a look at it."

Laura didn't look at her when she spoke, instead she stared at a both of their hands. Her voice still monotone and flat.

"You said your husband and daughter were going out for a swim later on the day? Do you know where they went?"

"I have no idea."

"mmmm, Okay. Did you have any contact with either your daughter or your husband after you left home?"

"No nothing. It's not prohibited to make a call during shifts, but it's not encouraged either and since the economic crisis is causing a lot of people to lose their job, especially in my field of work, I'm in the habit of not making too many."

"Now this might be difficult for you, but can you think of anybody, who could've killed your husband? Did he have any enemies? Perhaps at work?"

"no, everybody loved Harry. He was…"

Laura stammered. She seemed to have reached her breaking point. Tears came streaming down her face. Furiously she tried to wipe them away with her sleeve that was becoming rapidly covered with the remnants of her mascara.

"He was a good man. I… I just can't believe he's dead."

Her whole body began to shake violently as she cried, choking on the sobs she desperately tried to hold back. Her eyes that had looked down almost the entire time suddenly moved up to meet Brenda's. More than ever chief Johnson understood why some called them the mirrors to the soul. The sheer pain she found in the other woman's brown eyes was devastating. She could see how Laura Wright shattered in front of her.

"Please, find my daughter. I can't lose her as well."

The desperation in the request made Brenda even more determined to do everything in her power to do just that. At that moment lieutenant Provenza opened the door of interview room one. On his face he wore an aggravated expression and in his hand he was holding a phone. He motioned for her to come outside, but before she did she turned to Laura once more, squeezing her hands.

"I will."

"_Her surroundings hadn't changed a bit since she first wondered where she was. She decided to stick with her founding that she was drifting through blue water. She couldn't move, she couldn't smell or hear anything, but she could think. For some reason that seemed essential. She'd met a man. She remembered that part of what she thought was the previous evening, her sense of time had completely abandoned her. Her mind was still foggy and it was hard for her to focus on what had happened next. Concentrate, she admonished herself. _

_"I ordered it. Or would you rather have something else?"_

_The man belonging to the voice seemed to be in his late fifties, perhaps a couple years older than she was. His hair was mostly grey, but there were still some streaks of dark brown visible in the silver. It made him look very distinguished, she had to give him that. What also struck her were his piercing blue eyes. Overall he wasn't bad looking, certainly not, but she'd made up her mind._

_"I'm sorry, I was just about to leave."_

_She said it a little sharper than strictly necessary. The man had probably meant to be kind, but she couldn't help feeling it was some cheap attempt to score. Maybe some women would fall for that, even welcome the advances, but she was Captain Raydor, she played by the rules. However, before she could make it more than two steps away from the stranger he grabbed her arm. His grip was firm, yet surprisingly it wasn't painful. She swung around to give him one of her patented glares and a good telling off, when again, for the shortest of moments, she was in awe of his eyes. They gazed at her in hesitance, only belied by the steadiness of hands around her arm._

_"Stay for one drink? It doesn't happen often that this pub is visited by a woman like you."_

_She felt conflicted. One part of her wanted to go, wanted to stick to what she knew and who she was supposed to be, but the other part wanted to stay, felt flattered by his word, wanted to be someone else. Maybe he only wanted to talk, share the pain that has brought him here, alone. Alone like her. That's how she reasoned, despite the fact that deep down she knew that wasn't what he really wanted. So what, she countered when the small voice spoke up to represent that feeling. So what, if she wanted to do something completely out of character for once? So what if she wanted to forget who she was, if only for one night? Just one drink, after that she could still decide to go home or, perhaps, to stay._

_"A woman like me?"_

_She smiled at him, sitting back down._


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter four. Thank you for reading my story. Hope you like it and if you do, reviews are appreciated.**

It would be an understatement to call the expression on Provenza's face one of annoyance. In fact, he looked positively pissed off when Brenda followed him outside the interview room.

"lieutenant what's the matter?"

She impatiently asked, not at all happy to be interrupted during the interview. Provenza dramatically pointed at the hand that was holding the phone. He raised it in the air in a gesture of frustration. The sight he presented, waving the device in the air, would've been quite comical had the situation been any different.

"What's the matter? what's the matter?! Flynn is the matter! After Buzz tried to call him at least fifty times he finally decided to call us back, only now he's refusing to come down. I tried to talk to him, but he doesn't want to listen. Then I asked, very politely I might add, where he is and why he can't help us in this considerably important case. you know what he said? I want to talk to the chief, he said. As if I'm not reliable enough to confide in. That bloody stubbornness of his."

Brenda paid little attention the lieutenant's rant, instead she merely grabbed the phone out of his hand and furiously pressed it against her ear.

"Flynn, you better get your sorry ass to the station right now. We're dealing with a homicide and a kidnapping here. I seriously doubt whatever is keeping you is more pressing than our case."

She was prepared to say a lot more, maybe even call him some names, and then order him to come whether he liked it or not. She was angry, she was disappointed. She trusted her team to have her back and the absence of lieutenant Flynn felt like a betrayal. Perhaps it was stupid to feel that way, but she needed to be able to count on her team to be there when needed.

"chief, I'm in the hospital."

He softly told her, silencing her with the words. Whatever lecture she had planned was momentarily forgotten.

"It's captain…, it's Sharon raydor. She turned up at my house, badly injured. she's in surgery now."

Somehow it felt wrong to call her captain in a situation like this. Using her rank felt detached, while in fact he was feeling the very opposite. The chief was still quiet on the other end of the line, which he used to express what was truly holding him in the waiting room of Cedars.

"chief? it really looked bad. I'm not sure whether she's going to make it."

Brenda didn't know what to say. True the woman was a pain in the ass most of the time, though, she had to admit, no more than herself. In addition to that, there had been countless moments where she had needed to say thank you to the Captain. If she was honest with herself, Raydor had become an ally as of late, which was odd, seeing that in her mind, and probably that of the other members of her team, she remained the enemy. Still, there had been a moment she thought they could be friends, not the best of friends, but nevertheless they could be in the same room without wanting to tear each other's hair out. The moment had ended, though, as soon as she found out Raydor was continuing her investigation, despite the death of chief Delk. She had been outraged at the woman's nerve to not only keep a close watch on Major Crimes, but to declare that she needed to interview every single one of its members. She couldn't believe that someone she was slowly coming to rely on, maybe even like, would do such a thing to betray her trust. Yet, that was what happened, wasn't it? Come to think about it, the Captain hadn't looked as smug as usual when telling her about the transparency audit and her reaction when she told her about informing Pope had been downright strange.

_"Your investigation is going to history the moment I brief chief Pope."_

_"Well I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, make sure you let me know what Pope sais."_

Raydor had smiled when saying that, but Brenda, who was in the habit of categorizing, could not place the emotion behind it. She'd seen Raydor smile on a few occasions and up until now she'd reached a total of three different categories, though she was sure there were more. The one she saw most was what she liked to call the "You're going down" smile. It was actually quite enjoyable to see as long as she wasn't on the receiving end. There also was the "I'm finding this funny, but I'm not supposed to.". This one was displayed most often when either Provenza or Flynn or both found themselves in trouble, yet again. Lastly there was the all-out laugh, which she had only witnessed once when the captain was talking to someone on the phone. Glimpses like that led her to believe that the woman she worked with was an entirely different person at home. The smile accompanying her statement about Pope, or maybe she should call it a sneer, did not fit in. this was a cold, pained smile, which had nothing to do with amusement. It actually surprised chief Johnson, if there was one thing she liked about the head of internal affairs, it had to be that she was never contradictory in showing her emotions. If she was mad, you could tell, if she was displeased she let you know, if she was happy, granted that didn't happen very frequently, she had a way of making everyone feel it. However in every rule there had to be an exception.

_"Aha, Pope set Raydor on you, so you could take all the blame and he gets to keep his fourth star."_

Suddenly the comment Fritz made the other night popped into her head. What if it really wasn't Raydor's fault that she had to continue the investigation?

_"Look, whether or not you like it, whether or not I like it frankly, I need to finish this audit, which means that I have to speak to your people."_

The more she thought about it, the stupider she felt. How could she not have seen that? She was so blinded by her dislike for Raydor that she failed to notice where the real problem lay, chief Pope. The realization made her feel awful. She'd made it quite difficult for Raydor to do her job, a job, which she was probably ordered to do.

"Chief? Chief are you still there?"

Flynn's voice pulled her back to the present.

"Yes, I'm still here. Do you know what happened to her?"

Their conversation was interrupted when a young man, hardly older than 23, came running into the hall where Andy was sitting. He was slightly out of breath when he came to a halt in front of one of the nurses. His brown hair was sticking out in weird angles, telling Andy that he'd probably rushed out of bed to come here, not bothering to pay attention to his looks. This was also confirmed by the fact that he was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, most likely the clothes he had been sleeping in.

"Sharon Raydor? I got a call that she was brought in."

He sounded panicky, his eyes darting back and forth like some sort of cornered animal, looking to escape. Andy recognized the green orbs immediately, the same colour had met him a couple of hours prior. He returned his attention to his phone, intending to end it as quick as possible. If the man was who he thought he was, he owed him at least part of the story as to how his mom ended up in the hospital.

"I have no clue, chief. But that's for Major Crimes to figure out, isn't it? We need to find the bastard who did this and God help me not to shoot him in the head."

Even he himself was shocked by the fury in his voice. Seeing Sharon hurt had clearly affected him more than he'd initially thought. Apparently his reaction surprised the chief as well, because it took her quite some time to respond.

"Andy, believe me, we will find whomever did this, but right now…. We're in the middle of a case and our first priority is to find the girl. Captain Ray.., Sharon would've wanted us to concentrate on that rather than on her. You know that."

_She remembered the overwhelming need to hear something kind. God, she had been pathetic. She was a grown woman, she didn't need a man to compliment her in order to feel good. Yet, that night she did. After the crappy day she'd had, she just wanted to hear someone, anyone, say something nice about her, so she'd asked, "a woman like me?"_

_"Classy, sophisticated, beautiful, do I need to continue? You don't seem like the type that goes to cafés._

_He shrugged his shoulders in response, his voice sounding warm and remarkably sincere. The slight slurred words indicated that he'd had a couple of drinks already. They had made her feel a bit better. Damn, just thinking about it now made her feel ashamed. She hadn't gotten where she was right now by relying on men._

_"So what brings you here?"_

_Of course, it was a logical follow up, one she expected. Then again, she wasn't going to elaborate on her miserable life to a complete stranger, so she merely shook her head, indicating it wasn't something she wanted to discuss._

_"Okay, I'll make you a deal, I don't ask you, you don't ask me. What do you think of that?"_

_It sounded like a good plan back then, so instead they talked about other things, carefully avoiding the reasons for being there. She talked about her job at the LAPD, deliberately leaving out the part that she was hated by most of the police officers there. She didn't want to think about that. She also talked about her children, her son Daniel and her daughter Karen, how proud she was of them. Again she failed to mention that, at the moment, her son refused to talk to her. He told her about his job as a real estate agent. She had to admit he had some pretty funny stories about the different kinds of people that wanted to buy a house. He also told her about his daughter, how she was doing at school and how much she looked like her mother. That notion alarmed her a little. She might have made the decision to forget about the rules for one night, but there were still boundaries and sleeping with a married man was certainly a line she didn't want to cross. He was quick to assure her though, the woman had been out of his life for quite some time now. She was surprised how much she wanted to believe him. Being a cop, she was no stranger to lying husbands, or lying persons in general, she'd seen it on many occasions. On every other day she would've given it a good thought before completely trusting this man on his word. Not tonight, though._


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I intended to post a chapter every Wednesday, which obviously didn't work out this week, because I spend most of my time in bed curled up in a ball... Still, despite the fact that I've been a bit sick, I managed to write a new chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Reviews are love and if you have any advise or tips please tell me. **

"You can't be serious! You're not even going to set one or two people on finding out who molested a police officer? One that has saved your ass how many times? Cause that's what she did and you know it."

Andy exploded when he heard his boss shoving aside investigating the assault aside under the guise of it being not important enough. He was aware that he was drawing attention to himself by shouting in the otherwise quiet hall, but he couldn't stop himself. Sharon had been attacked, in a very brutal way by the looks of it, how was that unimportant?

"Lieutenant! As much as I care for Sharon's wellbeing, there's nothing I can do right now. I can't make sure she's going to make it. I can't make her survive. I wish I could Andy, but I can't. What I can do is trying to find a fourteen year old girl, who is hopefully still alive." Her voice softened a bit, fully understanding what he was going through. "I will speak to chief Pope, see what we can do." She paused a moment before adding. "I expect regular updates about the situation."

She hung up the phone, a grave feeling had settled in her stomach, one she couldn't shake. Provenza was watching her intently, confusion written all over his face after hearing only one side of the conversation. Expectantly he stared at her, waiting for an explanation, waiting for her to tell him that his partner was on his way. She didn't think she could bring herself to say it out loud. Sharon Raydor was battling for her life and all Brenda could think of was how unpleasant she'd been on what could turn out to be the captain's last day.

"He's not coming."

With this words she walked back into interview room one, intending to continue to question Laura Wright. She desperately needed something to distract her as the bad news began to sink in.

_"What started out with quick glances quickly turned into lingering stares and less innocent touches. His hand landed on her thigh just under the hemline of her skirt, making his intentions very clear. She could no longer deny where this was going and she realized she didn't really mind. She'd had a couple of drinks and she was feeling considerably better than at the start of the evening. She was an adult, something, she decided, that meant she was allowed to have a little fun once in a while. When was the last time she'd let go anyway? Always busy working, always busy being proper. She took another sip from her glass before carefully placing her own hand on his'. Daring him to move it up even more. A last wave of doubt washed over when he did. This was something she'd always very deliberately avoided. One night stands where for other women, not for her. She valued getting to know someone first, going on dates before jumping into bed together. However, this last weak resolve crumbled as soon as she looked in his eyes again. She'd deserved a little distraction from her usual life, didn't she? It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong, she told herself. He was attractive with his greying hair and lean tall frame. She moved her hand towards his biceps, concluding that he was quite muscular as well. His jaw was slightly angular, giving his face a very masculine quality. Something she was extremely aware of when he started to slowly lean closer to her. His eyes focusing on her lips, his left hand still on her leg while his right hand moved to her hair. She entertained the idea of letting him proceed, but stopped him with a hand on his chest just before his lips could touch hers. _

_"Not here."_

_She whispered, looking around. No one in the bar paid any attention to her, still it was one of those things she just didn't do, no matter much she wanted to cross boundaries. Most people would say kissing in public was no big deal, but in her opinion it was intimate enough to be considered a private gesture. It did not mean that she wasn't planning on kissing him at all. A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins when her fingers intertwined with his. She'd never been a rebel, she wasn't in the habit of doing anything that was against the rules. One could argue that there was no law against sleeping with this man and therefore it wasn't a real act of breaking the rules. In her mind it was. Her own set of regulations were the ones she intended to break, which made it all the more meaningful, because they were hers. She didn't always agree with the law, sometimes she wished it was different, better. She wholeheartedly believed that the law wasn't always right, didn't always have all the answers, but it was the closest they could come to justice and, most of the time, that was enough. Her own rules on the other hand, were what she believed in, but after so long of abiding them, she'd grown tired. She was perfectly aware of the fact that they were part of the reason why she'd been having so much trouble fitting in. Her so called principles were perceived by the majority as rigidness, her ability to keep out her emotions in order to follow protocol was seen as iciness and her attempts to make others follow the rules, made her the bitch of IA. Still, despite this knowledge she kept sticking to her rules, they were safety. Most of the rules she'd set were made with the sole purpose of protecting herself. Follow the rules and you can't be blamed. Follow the rules and you won't get hurt. She was starting to doubt that, though. Maybe if she kept sticking to what she knew, she would end up alone. People always said it was better to jump and fall than never jump in the first place. This was the time to find out. She slid off the barstool pulling the man with her towards the exit._

_"Would you mind calling a cab."_

_She smiled seductively at him, hoping her decision to take this through wasn't going to turn out to be a big misunderstanding. Her worries proved to be futile when he reached out to cup her cheek, brushing away a few strands of hair in doing so. With the other hand he took out his phone._

_"You really are beautiful, you know that?"_

_A tantalizing sensation crept over her face. She blushed, she actually blushed. The last time that had happened must have been at least two decades ago. She blamed it on the excitement she felt. Yes, that had to be the reason, she was Sharon fucking Raydor, she didn't blush. Well with some exceptions apparently. They kept a considerate distance while waiting for their cab, something she was grateful for. It made it easier to restrain herself from jumping him right there and then. Though, the way he kept looking at her suggested he wouldn't mind it at all if she did. _

_"what's your address?"_

_She asked, once they were seated in the back of the car, making it clear that her house was out of bounds. She thought she saw a ghost hesitation flying over his face, but it was gone in after a blink of her eye. Maybe she'd imagined it? Or maybe not, seeing as he still hadn't given his said anything to the taxi driver. Before she could read anything in to it though his deep voice interrupted her train of thoughts by naming an address and the taxi drove away._

"So you have absolutely no idea how she's doing? Seriously what kind of hospital is this!" The man, who Andy suspected was Sharon's son, yelled at the frightened looking nurse. It was a young woman, who clearly didn't have a lot of experience in dealing with angry family members. Andy decided this was probably a good time to step in, so without saying anything he hung up the phone and made his way over to them.

"She's still in surgery."

He immediately had the attention from both the man and the nurse, the latter unmistakably looked relieved to have someone else do the explaining. Sharon's son, on the other hand, looked as if he was going to settle for screaming to somebody else.

"I'm Andy Flynn. I'm guessing you're family of Sharon?" Then he turned to the nurse and said, "You can go if you want to, I'll take it from here."

He struggled to keep his voice calm and soothing. It wouldn't do any good to upset the young man even more by letting his own panic surface. The nurse took off, nodding at him as a thank you.

"Daniel Raydor, I'm Sharon's son. Do you know what happened?"

Andy took Daniel's outstretched hand and squeezed it in a way he hoped was comforting. He was sorry that he had to disappoint the guy. The only thing he could tell was what happened after he'd opened his front door. It still bugged him that he didn't get to hear what she'd wanted to tell him. It had been important enough for her to come to his house and to try to ignore her injuries. He just hoped that she would get the chance to tell him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter six. To my lovely friend Bella, yes I know it was you that posted that ridiculously long review after the first chapter, I promise there will be more Sharon/Andy feels next chapter or the one after that. To everyone else who's reviewed, thank you so much, you made my day. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

As chief Johnson went back into the interview room, a tight feeling settled in her chest, one she could not quite shake off. Some time ago she might have been able to blame it on the tiredness she felt, after all it was way past midnight and she'd yet to get some sleep, however she knew she would be lying if she did. Still, she was convinced she took the right decision by postponing the investigation into Raydor's assault. The one thing that struck her the most about the head of FID, even though it took some time for her to notice, it was the captain's insistence on putting other things, other people first. She didn't really want to believe the ice queen from internal affairs cared about anything beside her beloved rules, but not even she could ignore the way Sharon had reacted when she thought Ally Moore was being beaten up by her husband. She'd looked as if she was on the verge of bursting into tears. Not that she did, not that she ever did for that matter. Seeing Captain Raydor cry would certainly be an unsettling sight and not one Brenda desired to witness. Maybe that was what made the idea of her in the hospital such a disturbing thought. Sharon Raydor had always appeared to be indestructible. The way she never backed down, never allowed her emotions to get in the way, never stopped being the strongest, made thinking of anything less than invincible especially hard. Seeing Laura looking at her with sad eyes that reflected her own feelings made her remember just what had to be done.

"Sorry about that. I was wondering how your relationship with Mary Alvarez is? I recall you saying something about your neighbour being a busybody?"

"She's a nice lady, she really is, it's just, sometimes I wish she'd mind her own business. Ever since her husband passed away a couple of years ago and her son moving to England she's made it her life's purpose to fuzz over everyone in the neighbourhood. I thought she went a little far with it, but my husband had a very good relationship with her. I guess to him she was like a mother-figure. I think he sometimes needed that."

"But your parents in law are both still alive, correct? Why did he need another mother-figure, as you call it?"

"I'm not sure what happened between Harry and his parents, they hardly spoke to each other. It wasn't always like that, but whenever I would ask, he'd refuse to talk about it."

The last ounce of control that enabled Laura to keep going without completely breaking down disappeared and she burst into tears again. Brenda Leigh knew it was time to end the questioning, to let woman go home in order to grief. She took the smaller hands in hers once more, squeezed them. There really wasn't anything she could say to make it easier for Laura Wright, so she settled on that gesture.

"I don't really know what happened."

Flynn responded truthfully, feeling sorry he couldn't be of more help to Sharon's son. He was just about to explain the part where he'd found her on his porch when Daniel's face, which had been contorted with worry only seconds prior, lighted up slightly as if he'd somehow gotten good news. Of course quite the opposite was going on, his mom was in surgery, but a realisation momentarily lifted his spirit.

"Flynn? As in lieutenant Flynn, you mean?"

His angular features softened as a smile formed around his lips. He seemed different, younger somehow. As abrupt as this boyish look had appeared, it vanished again, leaving his brow furrowed and his eyes serious.

"Yes, I am lieutenant Flynn. Why do you ask?"

Andy couldn't help being curious. He wondered just how Sharon's son knew about him. She must have mentioned him and he was eager to know what she'd said. For a moment Daniel looked as if he was reliving a very fond memory, but he snapped back in a matter of seconds.

"After our father left us, my sister and I refused to go to sleep. I guess we were afraid that if we closed our eyes, the next day we would wake and find our mother had disappeared as well. Anyway, mom came to my room, where Karen and I had made a ford out of blankets and pillows, and she told us a story. It was about a cop, it made us laugh. Then she told us that seeing us laugh was something she wouldn't miss for the world. And even if we didn't feel like laughing, she would always be there, to pick up the pieces and make us smile again. Since then whenever one of us feels down, she tell us stories about her work. A few of them were about lieutenants Provenza and Flynn." He seemed to be debating whether to continue. His mouth opened, then closed again. "Are you and my mom…"

Andy realized just what the younger man was thinking and shook his head. The thought of him and Captain Raydor being a couple was highly unlikely. To his surprise he felt a little pang of sadness while thinking that. What also took him by surprise was that Sharon Raydor told her kids stories about him and Provenza. And she found them funny? That bit of information was completely new to him. Captain Raydor, who'd always look in an intensely scrutinizing way whenever he and his partner found themselves in trouble, secretly thought they were amusing? Suddenly he felt the need to know more about the woman. She was like a book and Andy had made the mistake of judging her by her cover.

The presence of the old couple was first noted by Julio Sanchez. When he stepped out of the elevator on the 25th floor he saw them standing awkwardly in an empty murder room. Sanchez had been present at the morgue for Doctor Morales' examination of the victim's body. It had been requested by chief Johnson, who'd wanted to interview the wife as soon as possible, which happened to clash with the earliest possible opportunity for the autopsy. So dutifully Sanchez had gone. He didn't really mind seeing dead bodies, viewed them as evidence rather than the person they'd been. The body was merely the shell. He was on his way to brief chief Johnson, when he saw the man and woman, looking positively lost. The woman was shaking slightly and the puffy redness around her eyes told Sanchez she'd been crying. Her husband had put his arm around her, his own face remarkably pale.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

He made his presence known. The couple turned around to look at him. Only then he saw a uniformed officer sitting in the corner. Kristen McGee he believed her name was, she'd been one of the responding officers.

"These are Mr and Mrs Wright, the victim's parents. I went to their house to make the notification and they demanded to see their son. I tried to talk them out of it, but that wasn't very successful I suppose. I don't think they should..., well, you've seen the body. I was hoping chief Johnson could talk to them."

Officer McGee spoke softly, so only Sanchez could hear her. He nodded. He could see the need to verify their son's death in the Wright's eyes, the tiny spark of hope that the hell they found themselves in was a horrible mistake, that it wasn't their son lying in the morgue, that is was someone else. While Sanchez understood this need, he also knew it would do them no good to see the body. It wasn't their son anymore, both in essence and in appearance.

"If you would follow me to the family room, please? Chief Johnson's almost finished."

He didn't know whether she was actually anywhere near wrapping up the interview, but he knew she'd appreciate speaking to the victim's parents ASAP. He was in luck, just when he walked to electronics the chief exited the interrogation room.

"Chief! I have Morales' report here and Mr and Mrs Wright in the family room for you.

Brenda took the manila folder from his outstretched hand and started walking while Sanchez informed her of the situation. A fortunate coincident, that was what it was, she thought to herself. It was mere seconds ago that she decided she wanted to speak to the victim's parents and here they were. It saved her precious time, something that was very important, since time was of essence in this investigation. Opening the door of the family room she was met by the haunted eyes of the parents that lost their child. No one should have to bury their child, it echoed in her mind. Seeing this people reminded her just how true that statement was.

"Mr and Mrs Wright, I am so sorry for your loss."

They looked at her for a second before they both started speaking simultaneously.

"I want to see my son."

Brenda sighed inwardly. How was she going to explain to these people that their son was not only killed, but also almost unrecognizable due to the 27 cuts and stab wounds, some of which had marred his face.

"I don't think you understa-…" She started saying, however mid-sentence Mr Wright interrupted her, standing up on the other side of the table.

"No, I don't think you understand. We never got the chance to say goodbye to our boy, we never got the chance to say we're sorry."

His wife placed her hand on his arm, calming him down.

"We need some form of closure. Harry never forgave us."

Her voice was softer than her husband's. Chief Johnson could almost hear the lump in her throat. He never forgave them, what was that supposed to mean? She didn't have to ask for Mrs Wright seemed to want to get the story of her chest as badly as she wanted to hear it.

"Many years ago Harry and Laura were going through a rough spot. We knew better than to interfere in our son's relationship, but of course we supported him. We made some faulty assumptions about what happened. You see, my husband and I weren't a big fan of Laura. We thought the reason for their quarrels was her cheating. They were both very young and Laura…., Laura was very, how do I say this, social. She could be very loose in her conversations with other men. So when Harry turned up at our house, looking for a place to stay after a really big fight with her we said some bad stuff about her. I'm not proud of it, we've tried to apologize for it on many occasions, but Harry didn't want to hear it. When he was a kid our relationship wasn't that great, I guess this was the last straw for him. He called a few times a year. We saw him at Christmas, but that was it. We made a mistake by telling him the woman he loved was unreliable and worse, but that was before we heard about his gambling. How were we to know that that was the reason?"

The last part drew Brenda's attention. Harry Wright was a gambler. The relieve she felt at having a possible lead was much bigger than usual. The whole case had been nothing but frustrating up until now.

"Your son gambled?" She asked, fishing for more information.

"It was a long time ago. As far as I know he hasn't gambled for over ten years. Harry might have had a moment of weakness, but he put his life back together, for her."

This piece of information reduced the relieve Brenda felt moments prior considerably, but still, old habits die hard. She made a mental note to ask lieutenant Toa to look into the victim's financials and detective Gabriel to find out more about the Wright family. Family first so to speak. You could never be sure just what they might be hiding.


End file.
